You know, you don't exist.
Dancing in a huge open space doesn't require an action at all.
Singing in an empty room makes no sound at all.
You amused yourself, and nothing happened. It's just that language provides you with all the possibilities of "pain" and creates all the opportunities of "pain".
When you come back from the outside, you may be covered in dust or bruised all over, but you can always live in language, heal your wounds gently, lightly and elegantly with language, wash away all the dirt, even enjoy family happiness in the kingdom of language, or come back from the dead.
It must be lucky and unfortunate for a person to feel this way. Fortunately, you have a possible way to "come back" and a place to live. You have been recognized in your life and cheered and sang in the depths of your soul. Unfortunately, you are far away from the dazzling sunshine, dazzling flowers, and the noise and turmoil of the world. Of course, only in this constant "distance" will there be real "pain".
"Pain" what?
Yes, what is "pain"? How to "suffer"? Do you know that?/You know what? Do you know that?/You know what? You don't know, you can't know. It is because you "don't know" that you have doubts and thoughts, your own existence and your existence. You know, you don't exist, and you can't "suffer".
The word "pain" here is a subconscious word. She is sudden, like a feather falling from the sky. She has no specific concept, no specific direction. It is precisely because there is no "single-mindedness" that she shows a kind of vitality, charm and refreshing motivation. Although there is no "concrete" direction, there is an objective/real process, a "painful" process. This process must consist of a series of consistent "behaviors/actions". This kind of "behavior/action" is not physical arrogance in the general sense, nor is it a show of swaggering through the city. It is a kind of thinking/thinking, freedom/self-action, or an upward force/situation. It is precisely because of these that she trapped the poet in an inescapable situation, in the call of "God" and in lifelong questioning.
Trapped is unknowable. Because "unknowable", the poet "asks questions" and thinks. Think in poetry, I am alive. On the contrary, "I" does not exist.
A possible "painful" imagination
The light ahead? /the call of a distant god? /The last dark flower? /Birds flying and singing? /misty and distant dream? /Broad and boundless artistic conception? /Pure and only home?
Maybe these are what I call "pain" and "possibility" (purpose) Although "I don't know", I still have to ask for a lifetime. "Pain" is just an attempt, a possibility, an eternal process and an eternal inquiry. So, I began to "talk". What are you talking about? What do you say? The "talking" here is not a conscious "talking" or a condescending "talking", but a subconscious, a kind of "talking in a dream", a kind of "talking crazily" and a pure soliloquy.
Life is the most complicated and changeable phenomenon between heaven and earth. People are more complicated and changeable. People are originally simple, and labor eventually complicates people, resulting in thoughts and thoughts, love and hate; Labor produces selfishness, truth, goodness, beauty, falsehood, evil and ugliness; Labor produces exploitation and exploitation, oppression and oppression. All this is not only the progress from "natural person" to "social person", but also the doomed "painful" process. When we put on the cloak of "society", we can't help being trapped in "hell". Sat says "others are my hell", and this "others" is actually "society".
People have two "gods" One is a rational God, which is an external infinite projection of human beings through the definition of "society". It belongs to an abstract person, a person without humanity. The other god is the god of emotion and will, which is the infinite projection of human beings through life. He belongs to a real person, a man of flesh and blood.
People have been wandering and struggling between these two "gods" since the day they came to this world. Rational God drives people to make a series of social rules to restrain themselves, punish themselves and hurt themselves, which makes the world full of industrial miracles, huge factories, shops, roads, buildings and so on. Almost turned people into slaves of things, but we were exhausted and decadent under the threat of these "rules/miracles"; The god of emotional will wants people to think and desire with blood, bone marrow, heart, abdomen and life in an attempt to get rid of those "rules" and shadows and "realize themselves" completely.
This is the contradiction between "natural person" and "social person". Contradiction! God predestined that man must live in contradiction, and only contradiction can live. Since life is a tragedy, a continuous struggle, in which there is no chance to win, and there is no hope of winning, then life is a contradiction.
As a "natural person", he (she) is unwilling to be passively in the whirlpool of this contradiction. He (she) should struggle and shout, resist and struggle, shed blood and tears, and make sacrifices. The purpose of all this is to get out of "hell", to "people-oriented" and to return to my original home naked. To this end, mankind has paid a heavy price, is still paying, and will always pay.
Who is the carrier of "giving"? Who gives more? How to "arrive" by payment? This kind of effort is still not the madness of behavior/action, and there is less heroism. It is a kind of thinking/thought, an emotion/will that never fails in the long river of human history. This "carrier" of "mobility" is not only an advanced thinker and a profound philosopher, but also a pioneer poet (artist) with "pain" consciousness.
He (she) set out alone and wandered around the earth alone. With the light of language, he (she) is looking for a place with "1000 roads without footprints" and meditating on the shore of "an old man fishing in the cold river-snow". He (she) refused to be romantic and grandiose, and went into the "hell", but he had no choice but to bear the suffering/suffering, intimidation/terror, lung crack/heart tear alone. He (she) showed the vast secret of life and tried to light up the whole "hell" with a bright red heart and head held high. He stood in the middle of hell, tears streaming down his face, shouting at the sky, "Who will go to hell if I don't go to hell?" He (she) began to "suffer" in the process of "shouting" and began to walk out of "hell".
In this process, some people silently melt themselves (commit suicide), such as Haizi, who said that he really "arrived" and was reborn, not "possible"; Some people return their bodies to "nature" (crazy style), such as Nietzsche and forefinger. He said he would "arrive", he was close to his destination, and he was completely free. More people are still on the road, still in "hell", or standing at the door of "hell", still trying to "arrive" in blood and tears.
In any case, this is a very tragic process and a necessary process. "Language" shines in this process, guiding the direction and drawing the poet.
"Possibility" of "Pain" and "Arrival"
Language: Possibility of Pulling the Poet's "Pain" and "Coming"
This "arrival" process is actually a "painful" process, a process of experiencing the beauty of life/death, that is, sweeping away the darkness/terror in "hell", saving the danger of dying/decay, cliffs/traps on the earth, and returning to human freedom/nature completely ... all this is Saussure.
In this process, the fragrance of language is revealed, the wings of language fly, the sails of language hang, and the power of language is displayed. Of course, the trap of language will also be highlighted. In any case, this process is happy, joyful and full of human experience. Only those who have this "language" can understand, experience and "speak".
What gives me the greatest happiness in my life is "language"-painful language. I like the individualized experience and feeling of "pain". Only personality can leave traces in the long history of "language". Li Bai's broad-mindedness, Du Fu's depression, Bai Juyi's secularity, Li He's secrecy, Jia Dao's thinness and Meng Jiao's loneliness; The confusion of the North Island, the dream of attending to the city, Haizi's longing and the vastness of Chang Yao are all named after the individual/personalized experience and sentiment of "Pain Language". And this kind of "experience" and "feeling" are presented/expressed in the form of "painful language" for a possible "arrival".
With the development of modern science and technology, some "poets" who are hard to distinguish between true and false can display their talents on the Internet. Without thinking, they have no "experience" or "feeling" about "language", but only branch and process words on the vast and free Internet. Of course, the existence of this kind of "online poetry" is better than nothing. At least, everyone can see the Chinese characters of a poem and the "works" that can be branched at any time.
The "pioneer" who truly belongs to the truth/essence can be said to be a lonely person without hype. They live here and at this time, and they are free/independent/free. They are more likely to stand in the open space of their souls, ask themselves questions and then answer them themselves. If they can't answer, they will become "heavenly questions". This kind of "answer" has its own characteristics, which is very vivid, concrete and vital. Poetry is alive because of this. It is buried in every corner of the earth and permeates every minute of time.
The "self-questioning and self-answering" carried out by pioneers in order to "arrive" is extremely personalized and internalized, which is difficult for ordinary people to understand. It is impossible for them to communicate about the individual/personalized experience of language. You don't have to explain this kind of poetry, you just feel/experience it through language. You don't have to be furious about it. If she tortures you, you can ignore it. But she must present it in this form/way. A vast and brilliant history of poetry, whether presented as a "text" or the enrichment and development of poetry itself, is bound to be indispensable. Although today's avant-garde poets are like fireflies, flying alone in the dark, emitting their own light and awn alone, though very weak.
Yujuzizhai